Evaporate by Leah Mueller

Tiny drop--

    you vanish with

            the first hint

                      of warmth

I hover above,

    tongue

            outstretched

                     for a final drop

of moisture.

     So fast

            the sun

                    evaporates

when you have

     no reflection,

             nothing

                   left behind

except

     the streak

            of your

                   imprint.

---

“This poem simply wasn’t going anywhere, so I abandoned it and went to bed.”

Leah Mueller (she,her) lives and writes in Bisbee, Arizona. She has authored nine books, with another on the way in October. A Best of the Net nominee, she will have a piece in Sonder Press' upcoming 2022 Best Small Fictions anthology. Visit her website at www.leahmueller.org.